that kind of pull
by zedille
Summary: Where is the one place HYDRA cannot go? / Skye's past as a fangirl comes in handy, Mike Peterson does not approve (of anything), and Maria Hill calls in a few friends to help. Derailed remix of episode 1x20, "Nothing Personal".
1. Inside the Plane

Writen post episode 1x20, "Nothing Personal", and includes spoilers for such. I was quite satisfied with the way the hard drive plot played out, but had to write my two cents about another location Skye could have keyed the drive to. (I was less satisfied with the logic behind the Maria Hill plot, which is what part two is about.)

* * *

"Stark Tower," said Skye.

?, said the text feed in Mike's eye, accurately reflecting his own feelings. Had she heard him wrong?

"I _said_, where do you—"

"Stark Tower. The drive is keyed to the coordinates of Stark Tower in New York, seventeen hundred feet up. Longitude, latitude, and altitude. That's where the drive will unlock."

"God _damn_ it, Skye —" rasped Ward, from where he was sprawled on the ground. Mike was impressed he still had breath to speak.

"You're lying."

"I'm not!" snapped Skye. She tugged again at the chain around her wrist. "Stark Tower. Believe me or not, it's the truth."

"… And you just happen to know the coordinates of Stark Tower off the top of your head," said Mike.

"40°45'12"N by 73°58'36"W", Skye rattled off immediately. "And 1700 feet in the air, in your case."

"A nice young girl like you — how do you even know this?" Mike asked rhetorically.

"Ask him," said Skye bitterly, jerking her chin at Ward. "He gave me the idea. Something he said the first time I met him."

"...", wheezed Ward, before trailing off into silence. Mike decided against trying to decipher what that could possibly have meant. As it was, Ward already needed to have his mouth washed out with soap.

"Garrett will probably want his specialist alive if he's going to be running a frontal assault on Stark Tower," Skye added pointedly.

In the absence of any orders to the contrary (what is even happening, said his handler), Mike shocked him again — enough to ensure oxygen circulation, and enough to keep him on the ground. In this line of work, you had to get your pleasures where you could.

Ward gasped greedily for air, clutching his chest. "You son of a bitch," he snarled. "I swear, I will kill you—"

He was still sprawled out of breath on the ground, unable to get up, which made his threats rather less effective. Mike tuned him out. "Go on," he said to Skye.

"He called me a fangirl, a groupie," Skye said. "That I might as well be one of those sweaty cosplay girls hanging around Stark Tower, because I wanted to speak to you alone, the first time we met." She sighed. "God, that all seems so long ago."

"You did not encrypt the drive to Stark Tower when we were _under attack in the Hub_," Ward wheezed. "Not even you—"

"This was on the flight out to Los Angeles," said Skye grimly. "I knew you were HYDRA, and I asked myself, where in all the world would HYDRA agents least be able to go? I thought about the White House or Congress, but I wouldn't put it past you bastards to have people there. And then I remembered. I was alone with you, like I'd asked to be alone with Mike." Skye laughed, bitterly satisfied. "Good luck getting into the penthouse of Stark Tower."

"If you could change the encryption's location then, then you can do it again now," said Ward. This was probably the first sensible thing Mike had heard him say all day.

"Uh, _no,_" said Skye. "I left myself a back door to get in the first time, because I thought we might need it again. I closed it the second time I hacked in, after I realized what you were doing and who you were working for. The only way anyone is getting past that encryption now is if I enter the password and the drive is sitting in the penthouse of Stark Tower."

"You're lying," said Mike, only a little desperately.

"Are we really doing this again?" Skye sighed. "Look, fine, then can you at least unchain my wrist? It's getting a bit sore, and if you want me to do this hypothetical hacking into the drive — which isn't going to happen, by the way — I need to be able to type. I don't want to get carpal tunnel. Repetitive stress injuries are the worst. Last time I had to go to the chiropractor…"

Mike felt the situation rapidly slipping out of his control (not that he minded much). The eye implant had gone dark, his handler having long since progressed from sensible questions, through chatspeak, profanity, punctuation, and incoherent keyboard smashing, before finally giving up. Ward, still on the ground, didn't look much better.

"…Does Ace like superheroes?" Skye finished awkwardly. Both Mike and Ward stared at her (well, Ward had already been staring at her. Someone needed to have a conversation with him. Mike hoped Ace would grow up to have better manners, especially with women.)

Fortunately for everyone involved, the plane's speakers crackled to life, as a third party chose that moment to become involved.

"This is Ground Control to SHIELD 616," said a woman's voice over the loudspeaker. "We have your plane surrounded. You have 30 seconds to come out and surrender. I repeat, come out and surrender."

Mike and Ward glared at each other, then turned to Skye. She shrugged as best as she could with one wrist still chained to the stairwell.

"You going to answer me, Ward, or do I have to come out there?" said the loudspeaker.

"I don't know who that is, but you might want to respond," said Skye helpfully. "I mean, she knows you're here."

"My earpiece is dead," Ward muttered sullenly. "After you shocked me—"

Mike resisted the urge to roll his eyes — was this what teenagers were like? — as he patted himself down, finding a microphone and transmitter unit among all the miscellaneous electronics on his body and tossing it to Ward. He never knew what HYDRA had installed on him; he wouldn't be surprised if they'd managed to get an electric razor in there somewhere. (Ward certainly could have used one.)

"Maria Hill," said Ward. "Kind of hoped you went down with the Triskelion."

"And I hoped you weren't the duplicitous lowlife you turned out to be," said Hill serenely. "But here we are."

"I'm going to be honest with you, Hill — I'm having a pretty bad day. So if I were you, I'd get the hell out of here." It was a pretty decent attempt at swagger, Mike thought, though given the sorry shape the man was in, it was all just bluster.

"Give up Skye, and we'll talk about it."

"Yeah, that's not happening," said Ward.

"I am right here, you know," said the girl in question tartly.

"You know, I never liked you, Ward, not since our first sit-down, but I never figured you for John Garrett's lapdog." Which about summed up Mike's own feelings for him, too. Ward had shot him the first time they met. That should have been a sign.

"A lot of us lost respect for Fury after he picked you as his second. He wanted eye candy, he could have at least picked Romanoff."

"'Eye candy?'" mouthed Skye incredulously. Ward was really just digging himself deeper and deeper now, which was quite impressive considering she'd started out by calling him a Nazi and a serial killer.

"That's funny. I'll tell her you said that," said Hill. She sounded genuinely amused. "Now hand Skye over, or I'll have a squad of F16s knock you on your ass."

"Even if you had that kind of pull any more, which you don't, Coulson would never let you do it. He would never sacrifice Skye like that. But you know Garrett would. So don't try and follow us."

Mike revised his estimation of Ward's maturity downwards a few more years. Never mind a teenager, now he sounded like a toddler. This was worse than Ace in a tantrum. Maybe the oxygen deprivation from the shock-induced heart attack had hit him harder than Mike had assumed.

Three little discs sailed out, landing at his feet.

"What—" he began, before the discs exploded in crackling electricity around him. He could dimly see, through waves of static, a redheaded woman emerge from behind the corner.

"Who said anything about following you?" she said.

_That's the Black Widow_, thought some part of Mike's brain, the part not occupied with the fact that his cybernetic enhancements were shorting out. _Ace would be so proud to know his daddy got knocked out by the Black Widow._ _Maybe she'll give me her autograph_, he thought, as he gratefully succumbed to unconsciousness.


	2. Outside the Plane

Sorry for the delay! And yes, this story has now sprouted a third part, which will be along ... eventually.

I liked the way the hard drive plot played out; I was less satisfied by the logic of the plane setup, as this chapter likely indicates.

* * *

"No, Phil, we are not sending you in to rescue Skye."

"But—"

"Lola will be fine," said Natasha. "I'll enter the plane through the landing gear, take out Ward, and secure the hard drive. Barton will be in the vents for backup. Simple, fast, and minimal collateral damage involved."

"Do we even have vents?" asked Simmons dubiously. "I mean, it just seems like a bit of a security risk, having vents for people to crawl around in."

"You'll have vents after he's done," muttered Maria Hill. Buildings had a way of developing new architectural features after Barton had spent any amount of time near them. Coulson would be lucky if the plane just ended up with vents.

Barton pointedly ignored her comment, though Stark looked worried. His battles with the city architectural board were legendary.

"I do appreciate your all coming out here today," said Phil, "but don't you think this is a bit … overkill? This is just one rogue operative. I can handle him." He scanned the group; the whole of the Avengers, minus Thor, were there. Stark looked a bit warm in his suit; Banner looked as calm as he ever was; and this was Rogers' first field mission out of the hospital. Barton and Romanov, the erstwhile SHIELD personnel, merely looked bored.

Coulson's midlife crisis must have been worse than HR had reported if he was deluding himself into thinking he was a match for Ward. May could have taken him, sure, but she was a combat specialist. Coulson had been in _management. _

"I don't know about you," said Maria, "but the longer I spend out here, the less time I need to spend in Congress. HYDRA cleanup outweighs a subpoena." She and Natasha exchanged understanding looks. "This is almost like the old days. Except with less property damage."

Banner looked away meekly. "The Big Guy—"

"It won't come to that," she said. "You're here as a very last-ditch contingency plan. Between the rest of us, that plane will not be getting off the ground."

"Hey, Steve and Nat already had their fun in DC," Stark said. "I want my turn smashing up SHIELD property, too."

"I would prefer if I got my plane back in working condition," said Phil mildly.

Both of these statements were technically inaccurate – SHIELD no longer existed to possess property. Nor was the plane Coulson's to receive back. But now was not the time to argue the legalities of ownership – that could wait for Congress.

"All right, all right, you can chat later. Agent Fitz, how's our surveillance?"

"I have visuals," said Fitz, passing around the tablet controlling his surveillance units. "Skye looks uninjured, just a bit shaken up, and—"

"That's Deathlok," said Simmons. "Oh, he's not looking too good, is he?"

"Is she handcuffed to the staircase?" said Coulson incredulously. "What is Ward _doing_?"

"Kinky," Stark leered, but he shut up upon receiving Coulson's glare. He coughed. "I mean, Agent – Fitz, is it? – this is pretty sweet tech. Stark Industries is always hiring, if –"

Fitz looked like all his dreams had come true, all at once. He also looked like he was about to start hyperventilating. "Think of the monkeys!" said Simmons encouragingly, patting him on the back.

Maria sighed. How did anyone get anything done without her? "Save it for the debrief. Stark, you can recruit later. Agent Triplett, you've encountered Deathlok before."

"We used electroshock discs on him last time," said Triplett, "and those seemed to work, but he was able to remove them."

"Not a problem," said Natasha briskly, rummaging through the duffel bag of equipment she had brought. She fished out some cartridges and snapped them onto the Widow's Bites at her wrists, slotted another few discs onto her belt, and hooked her earpiece in. "Mine are stronger than standard SHIELD issue. Stark's been experimenting."

"Let's get this over with," said Barton. "Nat, you ready to go? We'll sneak onto the plane while you distract Ward. We'll let you know once we're in position."

"Who wants the honors?" Maria said, offering her microphone.

"You've got seniority," said Coulson. "And we're trying to keep up the element of surprise, right?"

"This might even be fun," said Maria as she adjusted her mike, ignoring Stark ("What do you mean, you don't have fun working for me?"). She scanned the frequencies and tuned into the one Fitz had delivered, a patch directly into the plane's speaker systems.

"This is Maria Hill to SHIELD 616. You have 30 seconds to come out and surrender. I repeat, come out and surrender."

"_We're in the plane now,_" said Natasha through her earpiece. "_Keep talking_."

"You going to answer me, Ward, or do I have to come over there?"

Fitz's drone showed Deathlok – no, Mr. Peterson, what kind of a name was 'Deathlok' anyway? – handing Ward a microphone. Technical difficulties, then.

"Maria Hill. Kind of hoped you went down with the Triskelion."

Captain Rogers looked outraged for her, bless him. This wasn't nearly the worst she'd heard before.

"And I hoped you weren't the duplicitous lowlife you turned out to be, but here we are."

"Gonna be honest with you, Hill, I'm having a pretty bad day. So if I were you, I would get the hell out of my way."

"_We're in position_," said Barton. "_I'm in the vents with a clear line of fire, and Nat's hiding behind the corner._"

"_I was expecting more intelligent conversation,_" said Natasha sardonically. "_He used to be a SHIELD agent, I thought we had standards._"

Maria agreed, but as Ward was still ostensibly a SHIELD agent, she would have to endure his abysmal attempts at villainous banter a little longer. There were protocols to be observed. She had to offer him the chance to stand down peacefully,

"Give up Skye, and we'll talk about it."

"Yeah, that's not happening."

("_He sounds like an axe murderer,_" said Barton.)

Well, then. She'd made the offer in good faith, and he'd rejected it. She could really go to town now.

"You know, I never liked you, Ward. Not from our first sit-down, but I never figured you for John Garrett's lapdog."

("Ooh," said Stark, clutching his heart dramatically. Maria ignored him.)

"A lot of us lost respect for Fury after he picked you as his second. He wanted eye candy, he could have at least picked Romanoff."

"_Really?_" said Natasha, over the comms. _"This again?_"

("I think you're pretty," mumbled Captain America. Maybe they shouldn't have let him out of the hospital yet.)

Maria rolled her eyes. "That's funny. I'll tell her you said that." (_"You do that,_" said Natasha.) "Now hand Skye over, or I'll have a squad of F16s knock you on your ass."

It was actually a wing of RCAF Hornets, not F16s, idling on the next runway over – the Canadians had been very helpful after she'd notified them of Talbot's violation of their sovereignty – but she doubted Ward was the type to appreciate the fine distinctions of military hardware.

"Even if you had that kind of pull any more, which you don't," ("Excuse me!" said Stark. "You still have that pull. I have all the pull."), "Coulson would never let you do it. He would never sacrifice Skye like that. But you know Garrett would. So don't try and follow us."

"_I can't listen to this drivel any more_," said Natasha. "_Clint, watch my back, I'm going in._"

The camera feed from Fitz's drone showed Natasha tossing three electroshock discs out to intercept Mike Peterson. She stepped out from behind the corner as the Deathlok cybernetic implants began shorting out.

"Who said anything about following you?" said Natasha, directly to Ward. "Are you going anywhere? You don't look like you're going anywhere to me."

Ward looked, in fact, like his bad day had just gotten twenty times worse. He hadn't even bothered getting up from where he was sitting against the wall. Natasha, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying herself.

"Hey, Nat, stop hogging the prisoner," said Barton, from somewhere in the ceiling. "The rest of us are waiting outside, you know."

"The… rest of you?" said Ward.

"As Fury's 'eye candy', I know a lot of people," said Maria. "Including the Avengers. Garrett must be so disappointed right now, really."

Garrett had always been a bit patronizing towards her, yes, but he had never underestimated her. Apparently that had not been passed along to Ward.

"Wait, this is _Garrett_'s rookie?" said Barton. "Wasn't that the one who got poo drawn on his evaluation? Pretty good judgment in whoever vetted him—"

"It was a porcupine!" Though Ward had turned out to be more of a poop, really. She should have taken Coulson's misinterpretation of her doodle as a sign.

"This is all really cool," said Skye, "and on any other day I would be all over you guys, especially the part where Ward is a piece of shit, but seriously, my wrist is starting to hurt. Will someone _please_ unchain me from the staircase now?"


End file.
